


Lamentation

by steelneena



Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Oneshot, major fucking angst, mentions of the slaughter of the younglings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: Oneshot:Hidden away on Padme's ship on the way to Mustafar, Obi-Wan contemplates Anakin's fall and the task that Yoda charged him with.





	Lamentation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwiftSnowmane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftSnowmane/gifts).



> Written to my favourite Pain (TM) song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZx86KsC0Ws&t=0s&list=PL0dqWRYwKNGdnCpOqJsKcSWc5nJYgbY3A&index=39 
> 
> from the extended score. Enjoy hurting with me friends. 
> 
> As always, written for SwiftSnowmane, though you must be getting tired of all the angst I write. I promise I'll be updating The Chosen Path soon and then we can all have some happy, good Anakin feels.

_“I will not kill Anakin.”_

Obi-Wan had never felt so much in his life. The ache was far, far beyond any he’d ever had to contend with before. Not Qui-Gon’s death, nor Siri Tachi’s, not his time as a captive of Ventress or any of the hundreds of battles he’d witnessed since the war began where lives were snuffed out in the blink of an eye. None of them held a candle to the pain he felt now. The raw stab of anguish was recurrent in his lower abdomen. He felt sick; even the slight brush of his cloak against his skin left him feeling physically raw and he shivered at some unknowable thrill of dread that the very thought of the word sent through him. Heat and flame and scorching horror flashed in his mind, the bastions of emotions like hatred and anger. Anakin… The dark side was cold though, cold in a dead sort of way, cold in the way that darkness snuffed light, dispersed warmth entirely.

_“I will not kill Anakin.”_

The stench of gore filtered into his nostrils, and bile rose in his throat. Younglings, mere children, innocent, unprotected, trusting.

Slaughtered mercilessly.

By Anakin.

Anguish overcame him with tidal force. The temple may have burned, but that room and the initiates it held would never leave him. The vivid colour of Anakin’s lightsaber as it cut through the children was seared into his memory, worse than a scar, worse than a festering wound; it rent something deep within Obi-Wan to confront that one, terrible truth.

Anakin was lost.

_“I will not kill Anakin.”_

What was it to feel love? To acknowledge such a dangerous emotion? What was it to feel such pain he was nearly mindless with it? What was it to consider, as horrendous as everything was, that he could never bring himself to end such horror, to kill the monstrous being which slew children with its own blade, heedless of their screams, of the fact that they had trusted him to keep them safe? What was it to feel worse that someone so dear had fallen so far, than to falter at a bloodbath of the innocent?

What was it worth to feel and acknowledge that most dangerous emotion, when it betrayed what all sense and rationality demanded one retain?

What was it worth to feel love, to acknowledge it only when that which was loved, was destroyed?

_“I will not kill Anakin.”_

The bright eyed boy, lonely and afraid, cold in the unfamiliar depths of space, uncertain of his position in life, who took his hand and shook with all the contradictory impetuous hardened innocence of a child born to slavery, to the harsh world of the outer rim.

The quiet, nervous child, isolated despite the brotherhood the temple offered, misunderstood and desperate to fit in, sneaking out at night to race because it was the only thing which made him feel alive on a cold, alien planet that he didn’t understand.

The frightened teen, terrified of his own power, with all the best of intentions, desperately trying to save everyone, because, if he couldn’t, what use was he to anyone?

The moody young man, serious and lighthearted at turns, unpredictable and irrational, intelligent but brash, always needing to be the best, to prove himself to combat his feelings of unworthiness.

The man, disconsolate, war hardened and weary, strong and weak simultaneously, volatile and driven, depressed and persevering, despite it all.

The monster. Without compassion. Ruthless, filled with the burning flames of anger and hate.

_“I will not kill Anakin.”_

Where had he gone wrong? What was the breaking point? What destroyed what was left of Anakin’s sanity? What scraped away at his humanity until he was an unrecognizable shadow of his former self? How had Obi-Wan not seen it? If he had, what good could he have done, if any? If he had only- How had it come to this? Everything was lost. There was no hope anymore. If Anakin could fall, Anakin who was strength and compassion and goodness, Anakin was was zealous to protect, Anakin who would die trying…

_“I will not kill Anakin.”_

Obi-Wan felt the vow on his lips as painfully as if he’d been burned.

“Anakin is already dead.” Obi-Wan said to himself from where he was hidden on Padmé’s ship, hurtling through space to confront his friend, his brother.

“Anakin is already dead. You will not be killing Anakin. You will not being killing him at all. You will be killing the thing that murdered Anakin.” He sat placidly in his hidden corner, hands resting gently on his thighs, back ramrod straight, face blank. “Anakin is already dead.” He repeated to himself, over and over. Maybe, if he said it enough, he could believe it.

 

 


End file.
